Nor should we pass over the kindness of Philip to the Leonard family, who resided near Fowling Pond, in what is now Raynham. Philip, who wintered at Montaup,—for the convenience of fishing, perhaps,—was accustomed to spend the summer at a hunting-house, by this pond. There he became intimate with the Leonards, traded with them, and had his arms repaired by them frequently. On the breaking out of the war, he gave strict orders that these men should never be hurt, as they never were; [FN] and, indeed, the whole town of Taunton,—as it then was,—remained almost entirely unmolested throughout the war, and amid all the ravages and massacres which daily took place upon its very borders. How much of provocation and humiliation he was himself enduring meanwhile, we have already seen. All his relations were killed or captured, and a price set upon his own life.
[FN] A forge is still in operation upon the site of the one here mentioned. The original Leonard-House, where tradition says that Philip's head was deposited for some time, is represented in the Vignette prefixed to this volume. It is still occupied by one of the family, of the sixth generation from the builder, and, so far as we are informed, is the oldest mansion now standing in this country. The vane, at one of the gable-ends is inscribed with the date 1700; but there is little doubt of the house having been erected at least thirty years previous. The workmanship, especially within, is remarkably massive and sound. It is apparently modelled after an English fashion of the eighteenth century, with some modifications proper for defence against the Indians. It was garrisoned during the war.—The Fowling Pond, still so called, has become a thick swamp. An aged gentleman was living not many years since, who in boyhood had frequently gone off in a canoe, to catch fish in its waters. Indian weapons and utensils are still found on its borders.
It is a matter of melancholy interest to know, that the sachem, wretched and hopeless as he had become in his last days, was still surrounded by a band of his faithful and affectionate followers. At the very moment of his fatal surprise by the English, he is said to have been telling them of his gloomy dreams, [FN-1] and advising them to desert him and provide for their own safety. A few minutes after this, he was shot in attempting to escape from the swamp. An Englishman,—one Cook,—aimed at him, but his gun missed fire; the Indian who was stationed to watch at the same place, discharged his musket, and shot him through the heart. The news of this success was of course received with great satisfaction; Church says, that "the whole army gave three loud huzzas." It is to be regretted that the honest captain suffered his prejudices to carry him so far, that he denied the rites of burial to his great enemy. He had him quartered, on the contrary, and his head carried to Plymouth, where, as Mather is careful to tell us, it arrived on the very day when the church there were keeping a solemn thanksgiving. The conqueror's temper was soured by the illiberality of the Government toward himself. For this march he received but four and sixpence a man, together with thirty shillings a head for the killed. He observes that Philip's head went at the same price, and he thought it a "scanty reward and poor encouragement." The sachem's head was carried about the Colony in triumph; [FN-2] and the Indian who killed him was rewarded with one of his hands. To finish the wretched detail, several of his principal royalties were soon after given up by one of his chief captains; and the lock of the gun which was fatal to him, with a samp-dish found in his wigwam, are still to be seen among the antiquities of the Historical Society of Massachusetts. Montaup, which became the subject of a dispute between the Massachusetts and Plymouth Colonies, was finally awarded to the latter by a special decision of King Charles.
[FN-1] The violent prejudice existing against Philip, unmitigated even by his sufferings and death, appears singularly in a parenthetical surmise of Hubbard, "whether the devil appeared to him that night in a dream, foreboding his tragical end, it matters not." So Mather says, he was hung up like Ahag, after being shot through his "venomous and murderous heart." Church, generally an honorable and humane man, speaks of his fallen foe, in terms which we regard his reputation too much to repeat.
[FN-2] It was kept many years at Plymouth, Dr. Mather says in 1700.—"It is not long since the hand which now writes upon a certain occasion took off the jaw from the exposed skull of that blasphemous leviathan."
Last and worst of all, his only son, a boy of nine years of age, whom we have already noticed as among the English captives, was sold as a slave and shipped to Burmuda. It should be stated, however, that this unfortunate measure was not taken without some scruples. The Plymouth Court were so much perplexed upon the occasion, as to conclude upon applying to the clergymen of the Colony for advice. Mr. Cotton was of opinion that "the children of notorious traitors, rebels, and murderers, especially such as have been principal leaders and actors in such horrid villainies, might be involved, in the guilt of their parents, and might, salva republica, be adjudged to death." Dr. Increase Mather compared the child to Hadad, whose father was killed by Joab; and he intimates, that if Hadad himself had not escaped, David would have taken measures to prevent his molesting the next generation. It is gratifying to know, that the course he recommended was postponed, even to the ignominious and mortifying one we have mentioned.
Such was the impression which had been universally forced upon the Colonists by the terrible spirit of Philip. And never was a civilized or an uncivilized enemy more generally or more justly feared. How much greater his success might have been, had circumstances favored, instead of opposing him, it is fortunately impossible for us to estimate. It is confessed, however, that had even the Narraghansetts joined him during the first summer of the war,—as nothing but the abrupt commencement of it prevented them from doing,—the whole country, from the Piscataqua to the Sound, must have been over-swept and desolated. But as it was, Philip did and endured enough to immortalize him as a warrior, a statesman, and we may add, as a high-minded and noble patriot. Whatever might be the prejudice against him in the days of terror produced by his prowess, there are both the magnanimity and the calmness in these times, to do him the justice he deserves. He fought and fell,—miserably, indeed, but gloriously,—the avenger of his own household, the worshipper of his own gods, the guardian of his own honor, a martyr for the soil which was his birth-place, and for the proud liberty which was his birth-right.